


Coffee

by Zetor



Category: Daria (Cartoon)
Genre: Christmas, Coffee, F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-15 16:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16936701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zetor/pseuds/Zetor
Summary: Two old classmates have an unlikely reunion in a coffee shop in downtown Seattle, which leads to an unexpected Christmas dinner.





	1. Chapter 1

Stacy took a generous pull from her mug, savoring the lighter accents in the bitter flavor as the coffee warmed her body. Grabbing a latte from the drive-through at Starbucks in the morning was fine, but a fresh roast at an independent shop was something else entirely. She'd definitely made the right decision in trying out the small shop before heading home from her holiday shopping.

Putting her mug down, she returned to staring down the half-eaten piece of cheesecake sitting in front of her. It was delicious, she hadn't had better in a long time, but she knew she was going to pay for it later. She wished she still had the metabolism of a teenager and could just eat what she wanted and not worry about having to hit the gym to work it off, not that she ever took advantage of her faster metabolism when she was a teenager; she nearly starved herself to death. In the end, her sweet tooth won out. Picking up her fork, she carved off another bite off the creamy dessert.

She had gotten the piece halfway to her mouth when a bell chimed, making her pause and turn her attention to the door. A blast of cold air blew in as it opened, and a woman entered the shop. She was on the short side, probably just a few inches over five feet without the boots she was wearing, with shoulder-length auburn hair that had been tousled by the wind. Something about her drew Stacy in, and she couldn't help but stare.

The long coat the woman wore kept Stacy from getting a good look at her clothes; not that she judged people by their clothes, well not for a long time anyway. She still enjoyed looking though. The coat itself was very nice; maybe a year or two old, but the simplistic double-breasted style was timeless. It was dark olive green, almost black, and a good enough fit to make Stacy wonder if it was tailored. As the woman pushed her hair back from her face and started to straighten it, Stacy got a better look at her.

She wasn't drop dead gorgeous, but she was certainly attractive. Her lips were painted a subtle pink; not bold enough to call attention to her, but enticing enough to draw you in if you were already looking. What defined her face most though, were her glasses. Stylish, but not to the point that it would affect function; narrow silver rectangles surrounded deep brown eyes with circles under them that Stacy could definitely relate to, brown eyes that were looking directly at her.

Caught staring, Stacy almost dropped her cheesecake, before quickly shoving it in her mouth and looking down at her coffee. Blushing furiously, she almost choked when she heard the man behind the counter address the woman by a very familiar last name, "Why hello, Ms. Morgendorffer. Good to see you out of your cave. Come down to steal Christmas from us poor little Whos?"

In a sarcastic voice that pricked at Stacy's memory, the woman replied, "Too much work. Besides, Amazon already stole the holiday and is making a killing selling it back. I'll settle for my usual... and a piece of the cheesecake my secret admirer over there is having."

The barista chuckled. "Alright, it'll be ready in just a bit. Try not to scare off my new customer, okay?" he asked, clearly amused. The woman let out a dismissive chuckle, followed by footsteps and the sounds of coffee being prepared.

Stacy sat frozen, waiting for someone to say something to her. When no one did, she forced herself to slowly raise her head, her cheeks still flushed. The woman was smirking at her, arms crossed over her chest. It was the smirk that did it. She'd been pretty sure, but once she saw that amused expression, she knew. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she asked, "Daria?"

Daria let out a resigned sigh, unfolding her arms and slumping a bit. Looking Stacy straight in the eye with what almost seemed like desperation, she groaned, "Please don't tell me you want to talk to me about the essay. I promise, I've heard it all."

"Essay?" Stacy asked, confused and a little embarrassed that she didn't know what the other woman was talking about.

Daria cocked her head and gave Stacy a quizzical look. "On the Huffington Post?" When Stacy didn't show any sign of recognition, Daria narrowed her eyes and asked, "How do you know my name?"

"We, um, went to school together. I was friends with your sister," Stacy explained meekly, immediately admonishing herself for responding that way. She hadn't acted like that in years. For some reason, talking to Daria had her feeling like she was back in high school.

Daria looked at her flatly. "You're going to have to be a bit more specific; Quinn had a lot of friends."

That hurt. Stacy hadn't realized how much she was expecting Daria to remember her. Trying come off as unfazed, she replied, "You probably don't remember me. I was in the Fashion Club with her and we roomed together in college."

Daria's brown eyes shot open as recognition, followed quickly by surprise, flashed across her features. "Stacy? Stacy Rowe?" she asked, the scowl that had formed over the course of their conversation disappearing and an almost imperceptible blush coloring her cheeks. It was the friendliest Stacy had ever seen her. Of course, that wasn't saying much; she'd kept herself pretty isolated when they were in high school.

"That's me," Stacy confirmed, giving a polite smile and a small awkward wave.

"Do you mind if I—" Daria asked, gesturing to the empty chair across from Stacy.

"Please," Stacy said warmly.

Daria started toward the table, before stopping abruptly. She quickly unbuttoned her coat and turned back to hang it on the one of the hooks next to the door, before moving toward the table again. Stacy took advantage of the brief moment to observe her old acquaintance without the heavy coat on. Daria was wearing a chocolate colored sweater that brought out her eyes and a pair of black slacks that matched her boots. She was as slim as Stacy remembered, but not nearly as flat; her college years had been kind to her.

Daria pulled out the chair and sat, explaining, "Sorry. If I don't treat that coat right, Quinn somehow knows and I start getting angry texts."

Stacy giggled. "That sounds like Quinn. How is she?"

Daria's eyes widened in surprise behind her glasses. "You're not in touch? I thought you two were pretty close."

Stacy shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. It wasn't a subject she liked to think about. Turning to look out the window, she wistfully said, "You know how it goes. We kept up for a few years after college, but between the distance and our lives going such different ways… we just lost touch."

"Mnh," Daria mumbled pensively in what seemed like agreement.

Stacy got the feeling she had more to say, but didn't want to push. Instead, she tried to get the conversation back on track. "So, Quinn's doing well?"

Snapping out of whatever mood she was falling into, Daria said, "Well, she hasn't gone out of business yet."

"Business?" Stacy asked, having a hard time believing her ears. It was difficult to reconcile her image of her old friend with that of a businesswoman.

Daria's eyebrows raised slightly. "You really haven't talked in a while. She opened a boutique in San Francisco a few years ago."

"Wow," Stacy said, the image clicking neatly into place. "I mean, I know she got her degree in fashion management and was working in the field, but she's really doing it." She had to admit she was a little jealous.

"Yeah, it's still hard to imagine my bratty flake of a sister running a successful business," Daria said without malice, her lips briefly forming a small smile before returning to the neutral expression she had maintained through most of their conversation.

Stacy smiled at Daria's pride in her sister. It hadn't always been that way. "I remember when she wouldn't even admit you were her sister."

"Hard to believe that was over a decade ago," Daria said, something about her voice difficult to read.

Stacy gave an exaggerated groan. "Don't remind me. Can you believe we're old?"

"Don't tell me you're one of  _those_ ," Daria said, a touch of exasperation in her tone.

"No, no," Stacy said quickly, holding up her hands and shaking her head. "Life may not be perfect, but I wouldn't go back to Lawndale if you paid me."

Daria opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted when the barista from earlier walked up to their table and set her coffee and a plate of cheesecake in front of her. He glanced at Stacy, then smirked and turned to Daria. "I see you're hitting it off with your secret admirer. You usually don't give anyone the time of day."

"I usually don't tip nosy baristas either." Stacy could tell Daria was joking with the man, but there was an edge of warning to her voice as well.

The barista either didn't pick up on it or didn't care. "Seeing one of my best customers chatting with a cutie instead of buried in a book or typing away on her laptop is tip enough for me," he said with a chuckle, turning and hurrying back to the counter before Daria could get another word in.

Stacy couldn't keep herself from smiling. "He seems to know you pretty well. I'm guessing you come here often?"

Daria sighed. "It's a short walk from my apartment, and Kyle's roasts are worlds better than what you get from one of those chains," she explained, looking over her shoulder at the man and loudly adding, "even if he is a nosy yenta."

"It's only because I worry about you bubala," Kyle called back in a bad Yiddish accent.

The fact that Daria hadn't denied being attracted to women didn't escape Stacy. Memories of the summer before her senior year came unbidden; she could clearly see her younger self awkwardly blushing and stammering around her best friend's older sister. Pushing the embarrassing memories aside, she asked, "You live downtown?"

Daria took a cautious sip of her coffee, then nodded. "My apartment's a couple of blocks from here."

"Wow, I can't even imagine," Stacy said, dreamily. Living downtown in a fancy high-rise had been a secret fantasy of hers since she first moved to the Seattle area. "What do you do for a living? If you don't mind my asking that is. You said something about an essay earlier?"

"I'm a writer," Daria answered curtly. As if that were enough of an answer, she picked up her fork and took a bite of her cheesecake.

Stacy took a drink from her mug, waiting for more. When it didn't come, she carefully prodded Daria. "It seemed like you were upset about that essay."

Daria finished washing down her cheesecake with coffee and put her mug down with more force than was strictly necessary. Pushing up her glasses to massage the bridge of her nose, she said, "I have a new book coming out soon, and my agent got the idea in her head that I needed to promote it, never mind that I've never had trouble selling before. So I wrote an essay for the Huffington Post; I know some people there and I've worked with them before."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Stacy offered, encouragingly.

Daria continued, ignoring Stacy's interjection, "My mistake was trying to be topical. The new book isn't even political, but it's what people expect of me. Some idiot from the alt-right found the essay and decided I was just the feminist social justice warrior they needed to get their base riled up. For the past few weeks I've had people pestering me everywhere I go; if it's not Trump loving bigots throwing slurs at me, it's bleeding hearts trying to 'support' me and get a selfie in the process."

"Oh," Stacy sighed, crestfallen. She awkwardly poked at her cheesecake as she tried to figure out what to say. She couldn't just say nothing, but she didn't want to come off as being pushy or insincere and scare Daria off either. After a stretch of awkward silence that couldn't possibly have been as long as it felt, she finally hesitantly said, "I can't imagine what you're going through, but it must be terrible to not be able to go out without people harassing you."

Daria chuckled. "You know, back in high school I would have killed for an excuse not to leave the house."

"You never were much of a social person," Stacy agreed, smiling in relief.

"And yet here I am, having coffee with a member of the Fashion Club."

Stacy couldn't help but laugh at that. "The closest I come to fashion these days is playing dress up with my kids."

"You have kids?" Daria sounded almost disappointed.

"What?" Stacy asked, confused for a moment until she realized exactly what she'd said. Almost tripping over her words, she clarified, "No, no. I mean, maybe one day, but no. No kids."

"So you dress up other people's kids?" Daria asked, smirking at her from across the table.

"No, well yes. I mean—" Stacy took a deep breath. Again, Daria had her off balance, but it wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling. The sarcastic wit and from their high school days was still there, but it was good-natured instead of dripping with vitriol. Exhaling, she explained, "I'm a teacher; I teach kindergarten and work at an after school program."

Daria didn't respond right away, instead taking a moment to stare at her appraisingly while taking a long drink. Stacy did her best not to squirm under the other woman's gaze. Finally lowering her mug, Daria said, "Somehow that suits you."

Stacy realized she might be being optimistic, but Daria's words didn't feel derisive or even just a statement of fact. There was recognition, and maybe just a touch of warmth there. Not wanting to ruin the moment, Stacy replied with a simple, "Thanks."

The conversation fell off after that, both women focusing on eating their cheesecake and finishing their coffee before it got cold. Stacy usually wasn't great with silences; she got into her head too much when she wasn't engaged. This was different though, comfortable.

She found herself sneaking glances across the table as they ate, just a quick look at Daria's face or hair when she didn't think she'd be spotted. Daria's hair was beautiful; it always had been, really. Even in the past, when she claimed not to care about that kind of thing, it had good body and was that amazing dark shade of auburn that lit up when the light was just right. Now, her long tresses were clearly in the care of a professional and kept up well between appointments, the careful shaping and maintenance only enhancing its natural beauty.

Most of all though, she just enjoyed Daria's presence. The strength was familiar, but there was also a fragility there that made her feel more human and made Stacy want to be there for her. Daria had clearly been through some things, and Stacy could definitely relate to that.

Coffee almost drained and cheesecake finished, Stacy broke the silence and asked, "What are you doing for Christmas?"

Clearly startled, Daria almost choked on her coffee. After setting the mug down and taking a moment to swallow, she said, "Well, that's a non sequitur. I don't really have anything planned. I'll probably just get some Chinese food and make fun of bad Hallmark movies."

Stacy leaned back in shock, appalled on several levels. First, she didn't like the idea of anyone being alone on Christmas, although that was a little hypocritical of her. Second, Chinese food was not an acceptable Christmas dinner. And third, she liked those Hallmark movies; sure they were cheesy and all had pretty much the same plot, but they were romantic and heartwarming.

"Why not go down to see Quinn or celebrate with some friends?" Stacy chanced, hoping not to hit any sore spots, but unable to resist.

Daria didn't seem offended. She just shrugged and said, "The few people I know that aren't just professional acquaintances putting on an act for their own benefit have families to spend the holiday with. Quinn's visiting our parents this year, and I... don't want to go to Lawndale."

Stacy didn't press Daria about Lawndale. She had her own reasons for not going home, and didn't exactly like talking about them. She knew what she wanted to do, but she also knew it could easily scare Daria off and ruin any chance to get closer to her.

Biting the bullet, Stacy nodded and boldly proclaimed, "Alright, I'm cooking you Christmas dinner."

"Excuse me?" Daria asked, sounding more taken aback than offended.

"I'm coming over to your apartment on the twenty-fifth and cooking you a proper Christmas dinner," Stacy stated as matter-of-factly as she could. It was one of the ways she had learned to overcome her anxiety; she just ignored it the best she could and forced herself to move forward. "I'm not letting you stay cooped up alone eating fried rice and egg rolls on Christmas."

Daria quickly recovered from her shock and went on the defensive. "I'm sure someone as cheery as you has someone you'd rather be spending Christmas with. Friends, a boyfriend maybe?"

Glad Daria hadn't brought up family, Stacy shook her head. "Nope and nope. My friends are as busy as yours, and I haven't had a date in longer than I'd like to admit."

Daria grinned as a look of realization lit up her face. "You have no idea where my apartment is," she said, a hint of triumph in her voice.

Stacy froze for a moment, before something occurred to her. With a predatory smile and an innocent voice that didn't match it at all, she replied, "You know, I think I still remember your parents' number. Maybe it's about time I catch up with Quinn."

Daria eyed Stacy with respect. "I don't remember you being this good."

"A girl can change a lot in fifteen years," Stacy said with a smirk, feeling rather proud of herself.

Daria's gaze fell down to the dregs of her coffee. "Yeah," she half-whispered, talking more to herself than Stacy.

All of Stacy's confidence, false and otherwise, evaporated. She wasn't sure what she'd said, but it had clearly caused Daria to go somewhere unpleasant, which was the last thing she wanted. Backpedaling, she said, "So, um, I'll come over around two. Is that okay?"

Daria looked up from her coffee and blinked a few times, the faintest touch of red on her cheeks. She shrugged and smiled softly. "Why not? I can't remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. Might be nice for a change."

Stacy cringed inwardly. She really hoped Daria was joking about her diet, but somehow got the distinct feeling she wasn't. Returning Daria's smile tenfold, she said, "Great! I'll give you my number so we can coordinate."

"Let me get my phone," Daria replied, getting up and walking over to her coat.

While Daria pulled the garment off the hook, Stacy reached down and dug through her purse for her own device. Why women couldn't have pockets was one aspect of clothing that Stacy had never been able to understand. Okay, it disrupted the profile a bit, but she really cared more about utility most days.

When Daria returned to the table, she slid her phone across the table to Stacy. It was unlocked and open to the new contact window. "It's easier than shouting our personal information across the coffee shop," she explained.

Stacy wasn't particularly concerned about someone stealing her number, but with what Daria had been dealing with, she could certainly understand the precaution. Mirroring Daria, she unlocked her phone and slid it across the table. Picking up Daria's phone, Stacy entered her information into the provided fields and pressed the button to create a new contact. As she did, she noticed the time.

Reaching across the table to hand back Daria's phone and grab her own, she quickly explained, "I'm so sorry to do this, but I have to go. I have a hair appointment and I'm really close to running late." As she started gathering up her purse and the multitude of bags she'd picked up on her shopping trip, Daria walked around the table and grabbed several herself. Stopping and turning to face Daria, Stacy smiled and said, "Daria, you really don't have to."

"You're cooking me dinner; the least I can do is carry a few bags to your car. Don't worry, I have plenty of practice from when I lived with Quinn," Daria joked as she grabbed the last of the bags, carrying more of them than Stacy was.

"You lived with Quinn?" Stacy asked as they walked toward the door.

As they passed the coat hooks, Daria hastily grabbed her coat and slung it over her shoulder with her free hand. Hesitating as they made their way out the door, she eventually elaborated, "My move out west was a bit... sudden. Quinn helped me get back on my feet."

Something truly bad had happened to Daria, and she was still reeling from it. Stacy desperately wanted to know more, but also knew not to push. Trying to put as much sincerity and personal experience into her voice as possible, she shared, "I think I might have some idea what you're talking about. It was really rough when I first moved here."

"Mnh," Daria intoned, her mind clearly elsewhere.

They continued down the street in silence, but like before, it wasn't awkward. It was a companionable silence, as Stacy thought back on what brought her across the country and imagined Daria was doing the same. Still, it was a relief when the sight of her yellow subcompact broke her from her thoughts. She reached into her purse and found her keys, unlocking the car. Walking around the back, she opened the little hatchback's backdoor, careful to make sure it wouldn't hit the car behind her, and she and Daria quickly loaded her purchases into the car.

A cold breeze made Stacy shiver as she and Daria moved onto the sidewalk and stood awkwardly next to her car. "I'd offer you a hug goodbye, but I'm guessing you're not much of a hugger," Stacy joked, breaking the silence.

"Good guess," Daria confirmed, a brief smile gracing her face.

"Well, I'd better go. I guess I'll see you in about a week," Stacy said, walking around her car to the driver's side. Stopping, she turned around and added, "It was great to see you again. I'm really glad I stopped to get some coffee."

"Yeah, me too," Daria replied. Again, there was something in her voice, or maybe more than one thing, but Stacy couldn't parse it.

She climbed into her car and buckled up, watching Daria put on her coat and walk back toward the coffee shop in her peripheral vision. As she started the car and pulled out onto the road, Stacy wondered what she was getting herself into. She had just had coffee with someone who might as well be a complete stranger and was clearly going through something, then invited herself into their home to cook them Christmas dinner. It was ridiculous and more than a little crazy, but somehow, it felt right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays,  
> I actually wrote this first part a year ago, but I decided to continue it and then... life happened. Long story short, I finished the whole story last summer. I really like this one, and I hope you do too. The rest is coming when it's set, Christmas day. Consider it a Christmas present I guess.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: If you didn't check the word count, this one is pretty long.
> 
> Also, this is set in 2017, as that's when I started writing it. A few things make more sense in that context.
> 
> Enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

"She asked you  _out_?" Quinn squealed; excited, happy, and very loud.

Daria jerked her phone away from her ear to avoid being deafened, almost dropping the bundle of garland she was stringing along the edge of her bar. She had gone back and forth about decorating her apartment; she didn't normally, but with Stacy making such a big deal about Christmas dinner, it seemed like it might be a good idea. By the time she finally came to a decision, it was Christmas morning. Fortunately, she'd been able to find a pharmacy that was open and still had some decorations left. Stacy was due in less than an hour, and she was just finishing putting them up.

She hadn't been able to do a lot. Garland was strung around her doors, bookshelves, and the mantle, with red and green plaid bows accenting it on the corners. A few of the more tasteful knickknacks she found at the pharmacy were strewn across the bar, coffee table, and whatever other flat surface seemed most appropriate. Finally, an arrangement of artificial poinsettias sat on her glass dinner table. To Daria's surprise, the site actually made her feel a bit warm inside. The last ditch attempt at Christmas reminded her of her workaholic mother's own panicked efforts to get the house decorated before the extended family arrived.

When she was sure her sister was done trying to give her tinnitus, Daria put the phone back to her ear and explained, "She didn't 'ask me out'. We're just having dinner. Neither of us has anything to do on Christmas."

"Daria, you have dinner on holidays with family or friends, as in _plural_. If you're celebrating with one person you're not related to, it's a date," Quinn said with an air of authority. "Besides, I can tell you think she's cute. Why am I just hearing about this now, anyway?"

"This is the first time we've talked since I saw her," Daria offered, knowing full well it was a horrible excuse and that Quinn would call her on it.

"Seriously, Daria? You chat up–"

"I did not chat her up, we–" Daria attempted to correct.

"–my best friend, who fell off the face of the Earth ten years ago, and don't even call me?" Quinn finished, talking over her sister.

Daria sighed as she attached the last of the garland to the bar. Walking across the room to her couch, she dropped down and sunk into the yielding cushions. "I'm sorry; I should have called you. This whole thing is just kind of overwhelming, even though it really shouldn't be."

"Daria," Quinn gently reprimanded, "this is the first time you've done anything even remotely like this since you moved. It's totally normal to be nervous."

"Thanks," Daria said sincerely. Trying to move the conversation away from herself, she asked, "What did you mean when you said Stacy fell of the face of the Earth? Didn't you just lose touch?"

"Sure, if you consider changing your phone number, ignoring emails, and moving without telling anyone 'just losing touch'," Quinn said, growing more irritated as she went. "I've been worried about her for  _years_."

"Wow, I had no idea," Daria responded. She was surprised that Stacy had cut ties so thoroughly, but not to hear Quinn so upset about it. In the past few years she had learned first hand exactly how protective her younger sister could be, and how much she worried about the people close to her. Not knowing what happened to Stacy and being unable to help must have killed her.

"It's not exactly something I like to talk about," Quinn explained, her frustration quickly fading. "Do you think you could give her my number? Tell her she doesn't have to call, but that I miss her and I'd love to talk."

"Sure," Daria agreed. Before she could say anything else, there was a distinct thumping against the bottom of her front door. "Quinn? I've got to go. I think Stacy's here."

"Okay, good luck! You've totally got this."

"Then why do I need luck?" Daria asked dryly, feeling very much that she didn't have this, but standing up anyway. Cutting her sister off before she could reply, Daria said, "Merry Christmas, Quinn."

Quinn chuckled and echoed, "Merry Christmas, Daria."

Daria hung up the phone, setting it down on the coffee table before hurrying across the room and opening the door. Taking in the sight in front of her, she immediately understood why Stacy had knocked, probably with her foot, instead of ringing the bell. The taller woman had a large purse over her shoulder and was carrying a stack of covered casserole dishes and Tupperware that almost reached her chin. Daria quickly stepped forward and grabbed the top half of the stack.

"Thanks," Stacy said, letting out a sigh of relief.

"No problem," Daria replied, her eyes meeting Stacy's when she looked up from adjusting the containers she'd taken. Stacy's eyes had been one of the things that most intrigued Daria when they met the other day. The color of faded denim, they were as large and expressive as she remembered from high school, but where there used to be an innocent naïveté was experience and something else she couldn't quite put a name to.

"So, where's the kitchen?" Stacy asked, shifting the dishes still in her arms.

Daria quickly spun to hide the blush spreading across her face. "Right. Over here," she managed to say, leading Stacy left, past her dining table to the seldom used kitchen.

Stacy walked past Daria and set her load down on the counter. As Daria followed suit, Stacy took stock of the kitchen, walking around opening cabinets and drawers. Apparently finished with her inspection, she turned to Daria and said, "You really weren't kidding about not cooking much were you?"

Daria looked at Stacy flatly. In an expressionless voice, she said, "I once started a small fire trying to cook pasta. I took it as a sign that the culinary arts were best left to the professionals."

Stacy giggled, covering her mouth and looking slightly guilty. When she recovered, she shook her head and said, "That's really a shame; this is a great kitchen. Well, I'll put it to use today. Will you come out to my car with me to get the rest of my stuff?"

"There's  _more_?" Daria asked in disbelief, turning to look at the purse and two stacks of containers already sitting on the counter.

"Of course," Stacy said, beaming. "You don't see a turkey do you? And I'm going to need more than dishes, utensils, and a coffee maker to fix dinner."

Daria had to admit that Stacy had a point; her kitchen wasn't equipped to prepare mac and cheese, much less a Christmas dinner. She was glad the other woman had thought ahead and brought what she would need, but felt a little guilty for making her go to the extra effort. In her guilt, something occurred to Daria and she asked, "How much do I owe you?"

"What?"

"I'm guessing you didn't get all this–" Daria swept an arm toward the piles of containers "–for free."

Stacy's face lit up with recognition and she waved a hand dismissively. "Oh! Don't worry about it."

"You're making me dinner and you dragged what you need to make it halfway across town. The least I can do is pay for it," Daria insisted.

"I'm making  _us_  dinner, and I'm doing it because I want to," Stacy said firmly, in a voice that brooked no disagreement. "If you paid me for it, it would be like I was working for you."

Daria didn't respond immediately. She had to admit that it was a fair point, plus she was a bit cowed by Stacy's tone. Apparently, dealing with kindergarteners every day had helped her grow the backbone she lacked in high school. Promising herself she would make it up to Stacy later, Daria acquiesced. "Okay, Ms. Rowe, you win. Don't put me in time out."

Stacy let out an amused laugh. "Sorry, it's hard to turn it off sometimes. So, the rest of the stuff?"

"Lead the way," Daria replied, gesturing to the door.

Stacy walked to the door and held it open for Daria, who grabbed her keys from the small table next to the entrance as she passed. After closing and locking the door, Daria turned to follow Stacy down the hall toward the elevator.

As they walked, Daria couldn't help staring at Stacy from behind. The slight sway of her hips brought to mind just how long it had been since she had last seen the woman ahead of her. Stacy had always been attractive. In high school, she was the girl who hit the puberty jackpot—tall and slim, but well developed, with fair skin and smooth hair. She had been a teenage dream.

Now though, she was a woman. The decade and a half since Daria had last seen her had treated Stacy well. She was still very much in shape, maybe moreso than when they were young, but also had a more defined figure. The change wasn't extreme, just enough to highlight her curves, creating an attractive silhouette. Some might criticize the places where time and years of experiences had chipped away at her once flawless appearance, but to Daria they only served to make her more mature and relatable. There was a kind warmth radiating from her, where in the past there had been an air of nervous uncertainty.

Her chestnut hair was still long, but the childish braided pigtails Daria remembered had been replaced by a simple ponytail on their first meeting. Today she wore her hair down, falling around her shoulders in a nice contrast with her cream colored sweater. While she was dressed nicely, any pretention of high fashion was long gone; besides the sweater, she wore a pair of nice jeans that brought out her eyes and fur-trimmed tan Uggs. She was clearly comfortable in her own skin and the confidence shone through. Daria almost felt that their roles from years ago had been reversed, Stacy self-assured and herself full of anxiety.

The chime of the elevator pulled Daria from her thoughts, and she followed Stacy on as the doors opened. Settling across the otherwise empty elevator from the other woman, Daria asked, "So, where are you parked?"

"Just down the street; I found a good spot without much trouble," Stacy replied cheerfully.

"I should have let you use my space," Daria thought out loud. "It's not like I do."

Stacy's face scrunched up in confusion. "Why not?"

"I don't have a car," Daria answered matter-of-factly.

"What?" Stacy asked, a look of disbelief on her face.

Daria shrugged. "I never liked driving, and once I moved out here I didn't see any point in buying a new car. The public transportation is pretty good, and on the off chance I actually need to leave the city, I can get an Uber."

Stacy shook her head. "Wow, I can't even imagine. I couldn't live without my car. I guess I live out in the suburbs though, so it's a little different."

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened with another chime. As Daria and Stacy walked out into the lobby, Marc, the building's middle-aged doorman, called out with a friendly wave. "Good afternoon, Ms. Morgendorffer. Having a good Christmas?"

Stopping at the door, Daria smirked and said, "Actually having one this year."

The graying man chuckled. "Joe did say you came in with some decorations this morning. I thought he was pulling my leg."

Daria closed her eyes and waited for a teasing remark, but it never came. Instead, Stacy put a hand on her arm and said, "You went out and got decorations this morning? That's so sweet."

Daria felt blood flow to her cheeks and wondered if the embarrassment she was feeling was better than the teasing she had expected. Considering that teasing was usually followed by embarrassment anyway, she figured this was probably preferable. Not desirable, but preferable. The sincere appreciation from Stacy definitely helped.

The doorman held out a hand to Stacy. "You must be the one that has Ms. Morgendorffer in the holiday spirit. I don't believe we were properly introduced earlier. Marc Holder, pleasure to meet you."

"Stacy Rowe," Stacy said, taking Marc's hand and shaking it. "Thank you again for helping me get those dishes to the elevator."

"No trouble at all; that's what they pay me for after all," Marc said with a wink. "That was quite the feast you were carrying. Have a few more things to grab?"

"How'd you guess?" Daria asked, sarcastically.

"Well, Ms. Rowe didn't bring in a turkey or a ham earlier, and I imagine you'll be having more than side dishes for dinner," Marc answered with a smile. Daria couldn't tell if he was oblivious to her sarcasm, ignoring it, or mocking her back; it was one of the reasons she liked the man.

"Good guess," Stacy said. "We're on our way to get the turkey and a few other things."

Opening the door, Marc said, "Well, don't let me keep you. Be careful, ground's slippery."

As she passed through the door, Daria couldn't resist saying, "It's Seattle. It's less likely the pavement will be dry." She heard the older man chuckle and cover it with a cough as she started towards Stacy's car.

"He seems nice," Stacy said, as they walked down the street.

"Yeah, Marc's a decent guy," Daria agreed. "The other doorman, Joe, is kind of a pain. Has a big mouth too."

Stacy smiled at Daria. "It really was sweet of you to decorate. I'm guessing you don't usually."

Daria looked forward to hide her embarrassment. "I just figured that if you were so excited about Christmas, the least I could do was hang up a little plastic," she explained somewhat awkwardly.

Stacy came to a stop as they reached her yellow hatchback and opened the back door. "Well I think it looks great," she said, pulling out two canvas bags and handing them to Daria, the contents of one clanking as she did. "That one has what I need to make dinner; the other is ingredients. There's glass in there, so be careful."

Turning back to the car, Stacy pulled out the turkey, which Daria thought seemed rather large for two people, and closed the door. Daria was tempted to comment on its size, but didn't know enough about cooking to be sure the bird was actually too big. She decided she'd made a fool of herself enough times already, and opted to keep her mouth shut.

It was a short walk back to the apartment building, and Marc was waiting with an open door and a smile. "Welcome back ladies. Can I help you with that?"

Stacy shook her head. "I think we've got it, but could you get the elevator?"

"Of course," he said, walking ahead of them to the elevator. He pushed the call button, and when the doors opened, he reached in and pressed the button for Daria's floor.

"Thanks," Stacy said, stepping into the elevator. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

As the doors closed, Marc said, "The pleasure was mine. You're a very kind young woman."

Daria noticed a faint blush on Stacy's cheeks as the elevator started to rise. Taking a small risk, she said, "He's right, you know."

Stacy's blush intensified and she looked down. "Thanks." They rode in silence until reaching Daria's floor, when Stacy suddenly looked up at Daria and said, "We should make him a plate."

Daria looked back at Stacy in confusion, unsure what exactly she was talking about. As the doors started to open, she asked, "What?"

Stepping out of the elevator and leading the way to the apartment, Stacy said, "We should make Marc a plate of food. He's working on Christmas, all alone in that lobby. The least we can do is bring his some dinner."

Daria walked around Stacy, putting down the two bags occupying her hands and getting out her keys. She was impressed by Stacy's generosity. It was something she would never consider on her own, but Marc was a good guy. Why shouldn't they share? Unlocking and opening the door, Daria picked the bags back up and said, "Well, you're the one cooking. But, yeah, I think it's a nice idea."

Stacy followed Daria through the door and into the kitchen. After setting the turkey down in the sink, she turned to Daria with a smirk and said, "You know it's okay to admit to being a good person, right?"

Daria wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. She'd written plenty of essays on the morality of one thing or another, but at the moment the simplistic concept of being a good person somehow eluded her. Pushing the subject aside, she set the canvas bags next to the containers on the counter and moved to better face Stacy. Deliberately changing the topic, she asked, "So, what's next?"

Stacy looked over the items on the counter and hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I did most of the cooking this morning. All that's really left is the turkey and the gravy, and we can't make the gravy until the turkey's done."

Daria's eyebrows shot up. She glanced over her shoulder at the stacks of food-filled containers and asked, "Wait, you made all this today? When did you get up?"

Stacy smirked. "When did  _you_  go out and buy these decorations?" she asked, looking pointedly from the garland spread around the room, to the snow globe on the bar, to the poinsettias on the table. "And how long did it take you to put them up?"

Daria smirked back. She really had to remember that Stacy was sharp enough to turn things back on her. "Touché. I guess we were both willing to wake up early to do this right."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Stacy asked, her smirk softening into a smile.

Daria felt her own smirk do the same. "So, about that turkey..." she said, lamely.

Stacy chuckled, and turned to walk over to the oven. "First we need to preheat the oven to three fifty," she explained, punching the temperature into the oven's controls. As the oven came to life, she cranked a couple of knobs on the stove. "Might as well get this heated up too. Can you grab a stick of butter and the saucepan?"

Daria looked dubiously at the canvas bags. The butter was easy enough, but she wasn't sure about the saucepan. Pans were pans as far as she was concerned. Fortunately, her fears were unfounded; when she looked inside, there was only one in the bag. Grabbing the requested items, she walked over to Stacy and handed them over.

Before Daria could step away, Stacy asked, "Do you want to help? This part is pretty easy."

Daria was surprised that the offer didn't irritate her more. In any other situation she would have immediately lashed out at someone trying to get her to do something she had told them she didn't want to, but something about Stacy's earnestness kept her from losing her cool. Instead, she joked, "I really shouldn't, the smoke damage last time wasn't cheap."

Stacy took the hint and didn't push. Playfully rolling her eyes, she said, "Alright, but I'm teaching you at some point. I'm pretty sure some of my kids can cook better than you, and they're  _five_. You go ahead and relax; this shouldn't take me too long."

Daria didn't have guests over often, but she was fairly sure leaving them to make your dinner while you watched TV was bad form. Stepping back as Stacy unwrapped the butter and put in the pan, she suggested, "How about I leave the cooking to you and just keep you company?"

Even though Stacy kept her eyes on the pan as she pushed the butter around, Daria was sure she saw a small smile form on the other woman's face. "That works too."

Daria walked around to the other side of the bar and took a seat on one of the stools. She watched as Stacy took a lemon, an onion, and some garlic out of one bag and a knife and cutting board out of the other. As Stacy started cutting, Daria tried to think of something to talk about. Remembering something Stacy said earlier, she asked, "You said you live in the suburbs?"

Stacy sprinkled some leaves into the butter and squeezed one of the lemon halves into it before taking it off the stove and turning off the burner. "Yeah, Redmond."

"How far a drive is that?" Daria asked, just before Stacy turned on the water and started washing the turkey.

Stacy turned off the water, patting the turkey down with paper towels and placing it in a pan. Chuckling, she asked back, "You really don't get out of the city much do you?"

Daria chuckled along with her. "Honestly? I barely go out  _into_  the city," she joked as Stacy started shoving everything but the melted butter into the turkey.

Stacy shook her head. "If I lived here, I'd be out every night," she said, punctuated by the squelch of her hand entering the turkey.

"Really?" Daria asked skeptically, as Stacy rinsed the remnants of the ingredients off her hand.

Stacy looked thoughtful as she pulled a brush out of the bag and dunked it in the butter. "Okay, maybe not now, but five years ago I definitely would have," she said as she started painting the turkey.

Daria didn't really like thinking about the past. Five years ago things were very different for her, and thinking about it didn't change anything. She quietly watched Stacy cover the turkey, her brushstrokes breaking the silence at regular intervals. Irritated by the sound, Daria spoke up, saying the first thing that came to mind, "Quinn wanted me to give you her number."

Stacy stopped mid-stroke and asked, "You told Quinn you met me?" Her voice was somewhere between shock and panic.

Stacy's response shook Daria, and she instantly regretted bringing her sister up. As soon as she recovered, she tried to calm the woman on the other side of the bar down. "Stacy, it's okay. Whatever you're thinking, Quinn won't hurt you. I promise."

Stacy took a deep breath and let it out. Still not moving the brush, she said, almost to herself, "Right. You're right. Quinn wouldn't do anything." Slowly, she started brushing the turkey again.

Daria considered asking what was going on, but knew what it was like to not want to talk about something and knew not to push. Instead, she said, "She told me to tell you that you didn't have to call her if you didn't want to, but that she'd really like to talk to you."

That seemed to help, as Stacy resumed her earlier pace and quickly finished covering the turkey. As she salted and peppered the now shiny bird, she said, "I'll think about it."

"I'll get you her card," Daria said, getting down from her stool and walking to the table next to the door, where she kept her wallet. As she dug through it, she called back to the kitchen, "I still can't believe she has cards. She makes me keep extra so I can give them to anyone going to San Francisco. Ah, here they are."

Daria pulled one of the bright pink cards out of her wallet and looked at it. Despite the color, it was actually very professionally done. Quinn had kept the design simple, with just the boutique's logo, phone number, and website in raised gold letters on the card. Daria flipped it over and grabbed a pen, writing Quinn's personal number on the back. Heading back to the kitchen, she waited for Stacy to close the oven, then handed her the card.

" _Quinn's_?" Stacy read aloud, clearly amused.

"Could it really be named anything else?" Daria asked dryly.

Stacy giggled. "I guess not," she agreed, crossing the kitchen to put the card in her purse.

"So, how long is it going to take to cook?" Daria asked, glancing at the oven.

"The turkey should be done in about three hours or so. After that, we let it sit for twenty minutes; I'll make the gravy while it's cooling."

"So there's nothing else we have to do until then?" Daria asked, very much hoping the answer would be yes. She was good at doing nothing; it was much harder to screw up.

"Just relax and wait," Stacy answered cheerily. "You go find something to watch on TV while I finish up in here."

Daria hesitated, then shrugged and headed toward the couch. "You like horror movies right?" she called over her shoulder.

"Ha," Stacy called back dryly from the kitchen. "Put on something Christmasy," she requested, quickly adding, "and  _Die Hard_  is not a Christmas movie."

Daria chuckled and sat down on her couch, sinking in comfortably. Leaning forward, she grabbed the remote off the coffee table and brought the TV to life. Her entertainment setup was something of a monster; a seventy-five inch 4k HD screen was mounted on the wall, with Dolby Atmos 7.2.4 surround sound speakers placed strategically around the room. Sometimes she felt a bit guilty about how much money she spent on it, but watching the latest Marvel movie in higher quality than most theaters usually helped.

Switching the input over to the cable box, she started searching through the channel guide. With the number of channels, not to mention on-demand material, there was no shortage of Christmas specials. She was just about to scroll to the next page, when something caught her eye. A movie was about to start on the Hallmark Channel. Remembering her earlier conversation with Stacy at the coffee shop, Daria switched over to it and paused the TV. When she turned to call Stacy, she saw the other woman already approaching the couch with a plate and two steaming mugs.

"Find something?" Stacy asked, as she set the mugs and plate down on the coffee table.

"Hallmark," Daria said absently, her attention on the sugar cookies, pralines, and fudge piled onto the plate. "You made these?" she asked, looking up at Stacy with respect.

Stacy dropped down next to Daria on the couch, bouncing the smaller woman up a bit in the process. She grabbed a piece of fudge from the plate and took a large bite, closing her eyes and savoring it. Opening them, she turned to Daria with a smile. "Every Christmas. My grandma taught me, it's an old–" Stacy stopped mid-sentence, her smile suddenly less bright. "An old family tradition."

"Are you okay?" Daria asked, hesitantly.

"It's fine," Stacy said, shaking her head and quickly regaining her cheerful air. "Start the movie."

"Right," Daria said a bit skeptically, hitting play. She picked up one of the mugs and found tiny marshmallows floating in what she assumed was hot chocolate. A cautious sip confirmed it and she set the mug back down to cool a bit.

Stacy was definitely trying to hide that something had upset her. Daria knew all to well what that looked like from extensive personal experience. Seeing Stacy, who had otherwise been confident and positive since they reconnected, get shaken up like that a couple of times in such a short period was unsettling.

She was reminded that, while she felt a connection with her, she'd only spent an hour or so, at best, with the woman sitting next to her. She didn't really know what Stacy was like at all, but that was why she was here, wasn't it? Deciding that there was no point in dwelling on it, Daria made an effort to turn her brain off and just enjoy the ridiculously saccharine entertainment.

The movie was a combination of the Hallmark archetypes 'man and woman with opposed jobs fall in love' and 'lead returns home and falls in love with high school sweetheart'. The old sitcom actor for the feature had surprisingly been Alan Thicke, who Daria suspected had been paid a decent chunk of the film's budget for his brief appearances. Stacy had been a good sport about her jabs at the movie, even laughing and making a few of her own.

As the credits rolled, Stacy stood and yawned, locking her fingers and stretching her arms above her head. The action caused her back to arch, pushing her chest out. Daria made an effort not to stare, or at least not to get caught staring. "What now? We still have time before the turkey's done," Stacy asked, sitting back down and grabbing one of the fluffy sugar cookies from the now considerably smaller pile of sweets.

As Daria tried to think of something, a preview for the next movie came on. "When Karen discovers her fiancé is seeing someone else, she leaves her job as a high-powered lawyer and moves away from the big city. Will she take on one more case to save the local widower's diner from being taken over, and maybe learn to trust again in the process?  _Christmas Diner_ , next on Hallmark."

Daria nearly jumped when she felt a hand on her arm. "Are you okay?" Stacy asked gently, her voice full of concern.

Confused, Daria turned off the TV and faced Stacy. "What are you talking about?"

"Daria," Stacy said gently, still holding onto Daria's arm, "you're crying."

"What?" Daria asked, noticing the lump in her throat as she did. Reaching up, she brought her fingers to her cheeks, finding them wet. She closed her eyes tight and slammed the arm Stacy wasn't holding into the couch. "Damn it!"

"Daria?" Stacy asked, clearly startled, but not panicking. She gently squeezed Daria's arm, and asked, "What's wrong?"

Daria breathed hard for a while, adrenalin coursing through her. Before long, the anger passed, and she felt drained. She let her body go slack, sinking deeper into the couch. Stacy's hand was still there, like an anchor. Slowly regaining her composure, Daria realized what a spectacle she'd just made of herself. It was always the stupidest things that set her off, but a Hallmark preview was a new low.

She raised her free hand up to her face and took off her glasses, setting them down on the coffee table. Far beyond the point of keeping up appearances, she used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her eyes and dry her cheeks. Letting out a hollow laugh, she ran her hand through her hair. Turning to Stacy, she asked, "I suppose you're wondering what that was all about?"

Stacy's face visibly relaxed. A small, kind smile formed and she said, "You don't have to tell me anything."

Daria thought about it. She'd really thought she'd processed everything; she hated not being in control of herself like that. Maybe talking about it with someone else would help. For some reason, she got the feeling that Stacy might understand better than Quinn. It was going to come out eventually anyway; the book was being released in February.

After a long silence, Daria asked, "Do you remember Jane?"

Stacy pulled her hand back, placing it in her lap. "She was your best friend, right?"

Daria felt herself smile. "Yeah. She helped me get through high school, through a lot of things really. We went to college together in Boston. Do you remember the rumors about us?"

Stacy furrowed her brow in thought. After a moment, she said, "You mean the ones about you two being together? Those died down after you got a boyfriend though."

Daria laughed.  _"A_ boyfriend is right. I almost feel sorry for him; he went to all the trouble of dating both of us and didn't have a chance of getting anywhere with either one."

"So the rumors were true?" Stacy asked, failing to completely hide the eagerness that crept into the concerned tone she'd kept up during the conversation.

Daria shook her head slowly. "No, not then at least. It took us a while longer to figure things out. We started dating during our third year of college." She pursed her lips as she considered how to proceed, then asked, "How long was your longest relationship?

Stacy hesitated briefly, then said, "A little over three and a half years."

"Jane and I broke up about two years ago."

Stacy's big blue eyes opened wide in shock. Breathlessly, she said, "That's–"

"Eleven years," Daria finished. "We were together for eleven years. We got married on our tenth anniversary." She chuckled, a sad smile forming on her face as she felt her eyes start to tear up again. "She said she didn't want to have to remember two anniversaries."

"Oh, Daria," Stacy said, the two words full of emotion.

Stacy's response reaffirmed Daria's decision to share with her. It wasn't pity, or even sympathy like Quinn showed. Stacy really understood, or at the very least, was trying her best to. Swallowing the lump that had reformed in her throat, Daria started into the hardest part.

"It was a Friday. I'd been out of town and wasn't supposed to be back until Sunday, but I'd come home early to surprise her." Daria stopped to dab at her eyes. "I had picked up a couple of pizzas and a six pack of her favorite microbrew. I thought we could have a nice night in; we'd both been busy with work and hadn't had much time to spend together. I opened the door, and..." This was always the hardest part. She could already see it in her head, but saying it made it real. She felt Stacy's hand slip into hers and give a gentle squeeze. Stacy didn't urge her to continue or say that she didn't have to, she just waited patiently.

Taking a deep breath, Daria continued, "I opened the door, and she was bent over the couch,  _our couch_ , with a man behind her. I don't think she even heard me come in. I didn't... I couldn't even move. I just stood there watching them. I must have dropped the beer, because it hit the floor and broke. She heard that. They froze, and she slowly turned her head to look at me. She pushed back her... partner, and said something. I couldn't hear it; my ears were buzzing and my head was swimming. I'm glad I couldn't; I might have stopped, even forgiven her. I loved her.

"After that, I ran. I got in a cab and told the driver to just go, then I called the first person I could think of, Quinn. She told me to go to a hotel and that she would be on the first flight over. She was at the hotel the next morning to pick up the pieces. You probably know this, but when she sets her mind to something, she's a force of nature. She took complete control of the situation. In less than a month, she had me on the other side of the country with her, while our mom's firm handled the divorce. I ended up staying with her for a year; I just couldn't go back to living in a place where everything reminded me of what I used to have."

When Daria finished, there were tears brimming in Stacy's eyes. Without letting go of Daria's hand, she adjusted herself to face Daria directly and asked, "I know you said you aren't a hugger, but I think you need one right now, and I  _know_  I do. Can I please give you a hug?"

Daria wasn't sure exactly why–maybe because she was so emotionally raw, or because Stacy had been so empathetic, or just because she found the other woman attractive–but she gave a small nod and said, "Yeah."

Before the word fully left Daria's mouth, Stacy had wrapped her arms around her, pulling them together. Holding on as tightly as possible without causing discomfort, Stacy said, "I'm  _so_  sorry you had to go through that. I can't imagine what it must have felt like. You're incredibly strong."

Daria found herself hugging Stacy back, though nowhere near as hard. Stacy's warmth was comforting and re-energized her after the emotional drain of revisiting that night. After a while, she eased her grip on Stacy, who took the cue and let go of her. "Thanks," Daria said, "I think I actually needed that. You're wrong though; I'm not strong. I ran away. I can't even visit my parents for Christmas because Lawndale reminds me too much of her."

Stacy shook her head. "You're not running away; you're starting a new chapter." Bitterly, she added, "At least you didn't cut everyone you knew out of your life in the process."

"What?" Daria asked, surprised at the shift in tone. It had to have something to do with the times Stacy had acted oddly that night and how Quinn had said she'd disappeared. Daria wanted to ask more, but decided to show Stacy the same respect she had shown her and let Stacy decide what she wanted to share.

"I... Well, after you shared that with me, I guess I should explain," Stacy said, looking down.

"You don't have to," Daria assured her, despite hoping she would.

Stacy shook her head. "No, it doesn't feel right. I want us to be on even footing. From what you said earlier, I'm guessing Quinn told you we didn't just lose touch."

"She might have said something to that effect," Daria admitted, remembering her sister's frustration surrounding the subject.

"I was afraid. It was stupid; I know Quinn would have been accepting. I knew that then, but when the people you trust most turn against you, it makes you doubt everything," Stacy explained, staring at her hands as she fiddled with the hem of her sweater.

"Stacy, what are you talking about?" Daria asked, having a hard time following.

"Right, sorry," Stacy said, looking back up at Daria with pink cheeks, "I'll start at the beginning. I'm gay. I mean, you've probably figured that out. At least, I hope you have." She caught Daria's gaze with her denim colored eyes and smiled. "I'm kind of into you after all."

"I had a hunch," Daria said as flatly as she could, her attempt at an even tone hampered by the fact that her face was quickly reddening to rival Stacy's. Realizing what she'd just said sounded like in context, Daria gave up on any semblance of cool and tried to correct herself, "I mean, I had a hunch that you were gay. I, uh, just hoped the other one was true."

Stacy's smile widened. "Well, we're definitely talking about that later. Anyway, I've always kind of known. I was just in denial for a while, well, for a long time. I had crushes on girls, but always kind of just ignored them."

"Quinn?" Daria asked out of morbid curiosity.

Stacy avoided looking at Daria, and admitted, "Um, yeah, for a while." Looking back at Daria, she added, "You too though."

"Me?" Daria asked in disbelief. She had a hard time believing Stacy ever had a crush on her in high school.

Stacy nodded. "It was the summer before you went to college. You and Quinn were getting along better, so I saw you more. You were just so smart and strong; you still are." Without giving Daria a chance to argue, Stacy returned to her story. "So, I've always known on some level, but my family is very... religious. I'd been taught a lot of things that kept me from wanting to admit it to myself, and the fact that I wasn't exactly confident back then didn't help. College changed a lot of things. Between the liberal atmosphere, growing self-confidence, and a party where I drank enough to act without thinking too much; I came to accept my sexual preferences.

"That didn't mean I was going to out myself though. I was still terrified of what other people would think. I just told everyone I was too busy to date and saw girls in secret. That worked for awhile, but it was exhausting living a double life, not to mention some girls don't go for the whole 'pretend to be my friend around everyone I know' thing. That was what did it. There was this girl named Amber; I was really into her, but she wouldn't go out with me if I was in the closet. I built up my courage and went to visit my parents; I figured that if I could tell them, I could tell anyone."

"I'm guessing they didn't take it well," Daria interjected, feeling sick to her stomach. Her parents weren't particularly conservative, they were actually former hippies, but that hadn't kept her from imagining every possible horrible outcome when she and Jane had decided to come out to them.

" _That's_  an understatement," Stacy said grimly. "They screamed at me, called me... Well, you can imagine. I don't really want to go into detail. In the end, they threw me out and told me never to contact them again. I was devastated. I thought I was ready for the worst, but you can't prepare for having your parents say and do those things. They're supposed to love you unconditionally, to take care of you, not..." Stacy trailed of, her eyes tearing up.

Without thinking, Daria reached out and put her hand on top of Stacy's. She didn't say anything; it felt like anything she said would come out sounding patronizing or disingenuous.

Stacy smiled and wiped her eyes. "Sorry. I always think I'm past this; I guess you never really get over some things. Anyway, after I managed to pull myself together somewhat, I called Amber. I had done all that so I could ask her out after all. Turns out, I took to long; she was already with someone else. It wasn't like she promised me anything, but at the time I was crushed. It felt like everyone was betraying me. I was sure no one would accept me, so I just left. I took the first job I could find on the west coast and never looked back."

Daria pulled her hand back. With an amused chuckle, she said, "We're pretty broken, aren't we?"

"I think everyone is to some extent," Stacy said thoughtfully, "we just have more cracks."

"I'm not sure if that's optimism or pessimism."

"It's realism," Stacy said simply.

Daria was dumbstruck, looking at the woman sitting next to her with a new level of respect. She was right, of course. Daria had always seen herself as a realist, but at some point–no, she knew exactly when–she'd started seeing the world in a negative light. "You really have changed."

Stacy raised her eyebrows, looking at Daria with amusement. "I'm going to take that as a compliment."

Taking Stacy's lighthearted response as a cue, Daria kept up the shift in mood and dryly joked, "So, do we have time for another movie, or did revealing our deepest secrets take up too much time?"

Stacy smiled and looked at the clock on the cable box. "Part of one at least. Let's not watch another Hallmark movie though. That feels a little close to home right now."

Daria couldn't help but laugh. "A woman who has finally recovered from a crushing divorce moves to a new city and has a chance meeting with an old classmate, who she doesn't know had a crush on her in high school."

"Oh my gosh," Stacy said, joining in the laughter, "Quinn is the best friend who pushes us together."

"Well, she did give me a pep talk and try to convince me that this was a date before you got here," Daria recalled, after she finished laughing at Stacy's observation.

"If this is a date, so was coffee," Stacy said firmly, but with a touch of humor.

"And why's that?" Daria asked, playing along.

"Well, our first date can't be on Christmas, then we couldn't celebrate our anniversary," Stacy explained, as if it should be obvious.

Daria smiled wryly and shot Stacy a skeptical look. "You're already planning on dating me for a year?"

Stacy's expression froze, then quickly shifted to panicked realization. "No. I mean, I wouldn't mind, but I–" Catching herself, she relaxed and smiled back at Daria. "You're messing with me."

"Maybe a bit," Daria admitted, still smiling. "It's good to know you're serious though. I'm not exactly looking for a quick rebound."

Stacy nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I'm at the point in my life where I'm looking for something serious."

It was a relief for Daria to hear, even if she'd been pretty sure. Despite herself, she was starting to fall for the woman sitting next to her and very much wanted whatever was forming between them to keep going. After a brief silence, she broke out of her musings and asked, "So, another movie?"

Stacy jumped, obviously as caught up in her own thoughts as Daria. "Right. I imagine with a setup like this, you've got a pretty big DVD collection?"

"Blu-rays are on the rightmost shelf," Daria said, pointing to the row of bookshelves that fully covered one of her walls. As Stacy got up and walked toward it, she warned, "You're not going to find any Christmas movies."

"It doesn't have to be a Christmas movie, " Stacy said, examining the titles, "just something that we can– This is perfect!"

Stacy's sudden exclamation came just as Daria was picking her glasses up off the table, almost causing her to drop them. Putting them on, she watched in amusement as Stacy practically skipped over to the Blu-ray player. "I'm guessing you found something?"

After inserting the disc, Stacy walked around the coffee table and sat down on the couch next to Daria. She held up the Blu-ray case and teasingly said, "I thought you said you didn't have any Christmas movies."

Looking at the movie Stacy was holding,  _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ , then up at Stacy, Daria stubbornly said, "That's a Halloween movie."

Stacy looked almost offended. "It has Christmas in the _title_. Besides, it's both. That's the beauty," she stated with finality.

Daria didn't argue; it obviously meant more to Stacy than it did to her. Picking up the remote to turn the TV back on and set it to the right input, Daria said, "I never would have taken you for a Burton fan."

Stacy gently set the movie's case down on the coffee table. Shrugging, she explained, "I guess I just find a lot of his stuff relatable, especially  _Nightmare_  though. I pretty much  _was_  Sally growing up. Well, with a little more anxiety."

The mental image of Stacy as the repressed ragdoll with an unrequited love fit surprisingly well, especially considering what Daria had just learned about the other woman's past. Navigating the menu, she started the movie and set the remote back down on the table. Daria kept quiet this time, not just because the movie seemed important to Stacy, but also because she was rather fond of it herself.

At some point, Stacy reached across the space between them and slipped her hand into Daria's. Daria was surprised when she didn't jump or even flinch at the touch. Whether it was because of what they had shared or just a growing closeness, she was becoming comfortable with Stacy. It was frightening in a lot of ways, but the good definitely outweighed the bad. Occasionally, Stacy would squeeze Daria's hand a little tighter, and Daria found herself responding in kind.

Daria did jump when the oven timer started going off. Reaching forward, she picked up the remote and paused the movie as Jack was taking off from Halloween Town dressed as Santa. At least it was a decent place to stop. "Guess we talked a little longer than we thought," she observed.

"I guess so," Stacy agreed, giving Daria's hand a final squeeze before letting go and standing up. "I'm going to go take the turkey out. Can you take those to the kitchen?" she asked, gesturing to the now mostly empty plate and mugs on the coffee table.

"Sure," Daria agreed, turning off the screen and setting down the remote. As Stacy hurried out of the room, Daria carefully picked up the dishes. When she got to the kitchen, she set them down on the bar, not wanting to get in Stacy's way. Taking a seat, she watched with interest as Stacy took the turkey out of the oven and replaced it with the casserole dishes that had been sitting on the counter. Shutting the oven, she transferred the turkey from the pan to the cutting board and took off her oven mitts to cover it in foil.

When Stacy came to a brief rest, Daria teasingly applauded. "That was impressive. I don't think you stopped moving from the time the timer went off."

Stacy smirked and said, "You should see me at work; there are days where it feels like I don't stop moving until all the kids have gone home."

Daria couldn't imagine chasing around a bunch of screaming five year olds all day. One maybe, she'd certainly thought about it, but never a whole classroom. Curious, she asked, "What made you want to go into teaching?"

Stacy had started moving again, setting the saucepan she'd apparently cleaned before leaving the kitchen earlier on the counter. "I guess the easy answer is that I love kids, but that's not much of a story." Putting her oven mitts back on, she picked up the pan the turkey had been in and carefully emptied some of the drippings into the pot. "I didn't really know what I wanted to do when I got to college. I don't even know if I would have gone if it wasn't for Quinn; I just kind of followed her there."

"I find that hard to believe; you were always smarter than the other two you and Quinn hung out with," Daria argued. She meant it too; Stacy had always been worlds above Quinn's other friends. She'd been relieved when she returned home the summer after her freshman year and found out that her sister wasn't spending much time with them anymore.

Stacy smiled as she set the pan back down and took off her mitts. "Maybe, but that's hardly a high bar. Anyway, I didn't know what I wanted to do. Quinn was dead set on fashion, but I wasn't a designer and certainly didn't have the talent for management that she does. Fashion was just a hobby for me."

She pulled a small bag of flour out of one canvas bag and a whisk out of the other, gradually mixing the flour into the drippings. "I kind of fell into teaching. I took a few classes for different majors to try to find something, but none of them really felt right. My first summer back, I ended up getting roped into taking care of my aunt's kids a lot and something just clicked. I loved it. When I signed up for classes the next semester, I declared my major, and I haven't regretted it yet."

Stacy moved the saucepan over to the stove and turned on the burner. Going back to the bag, she pulled out a glass mason jar full of a murky brown liquid and placed it on the counter next to the stove. Keeping an eye on the mixture in the saucepan, she asked, "What about you? How did you get to where you are, Ms. Famous Author?"

"I write essays; I'm not exactly what you'd call famous," Daria deflected. She'd never been particularly good at taking compliments.

Stacy idly stirred the contents of the saucepan. "You're not exactly self published either. The reviews seem good too. Well, the professional ones. The buyer reviews were..."

Daria groaned and brought her hand to her forehead . "You read those? I thought Amazon locked the comments." Someone was getting a very nasty phone call tomorrow.

"So, how did you get where you are?" Stacy persisted.

Daria sighed. It was only fair really, and she'd started it after all. "It's nothing fantastic, if that's what you're hoping. I've been writing since middle school. I never submitted anything until high school, and even then I got rejected. I used to write fiction, but one of my professors suggested I try writing essays. Turns out, he was right; it was a much better fit. I ended up with a pretty regular gig in the school paper, but I never really thought it would go anywhere."

Daria watched Stacy mix the contents of the jar into the golden brown mixture on the stove. "I was right at first. I graduated and got a job writing for one of the smaller papers in the area. It's probably gone now, with the way the industry is going. Reporting was fine, but it wasn't as fulfilling as writing essays had been. I started writing in my free time just to clear my head. It probably would have stopped there, but someone took one of my essays without telling me and submitted it to a magazine. I would have killed her, but it was accepted and the check helped make rent.

"It went like that for a while, working at the paper and submitting essays. After a while, my ego got big enough for me to approach a publisher. Surprisingly, they actually liked my work, and after some editing, they put out my first collection."

Stacy shook her head as she took the gravy off the stove. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a talent for understatement?" Without giving Daria a chance to answer, she asked, "Can you set the table while I finish getting the food ready?"

"Sure," Daria agreed, happy to have something she felt confident in to help with. While Stacy busied herself with finishing preparing the food, Daria took care of everything else. She got out the nice placemats and cloth napkins that she was now thankful Quinn had forced her to buy and laid out the silverware and plates, making sure to set aside an extra plate for Marc. She also took it upon herself to set out a couple of glasses of water, as well as two wine glasses and a nice bottle of pinot noir she'd been saving.

"Ready?" Stacy asked.

Daria turned and couldn't help but stare at the food laid out in the kitchen. The partially carved turkey sat on the kitchen's island, with a row of delicious looking sides on the counter opposite it. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had food that wasn't delivered or cooked in a microwave, much less a real holiday dinner.

Stacy beamed at her silence, and began proudly describing the feast. "The turkey looks like it turned out well, and the sides have warmed up nicely." Pointing to the first side, a creamy orange mass, Stacy said, "These are eggnog sweet potatoes." Moving to the next dish, what looked like broccoli smothered in cheese, she explained, "This is broccoli divine; it's a new recipe I found online, so let me know what you think." The third large dish contained stuffing, Stacy clarifying, "This is vegetarian stuffing, but don't worry, it's still good; I just think turkey giblets are kind of gross."

Finding her voice, Daria said, "It looks amazing."

"Thanks," Stacy said, a small glow in her cheeks. "There are also rolls, and a yule log cake for dessert, so save space."

Looking over the spread again, then turning to Stacy, Daria said, "You really didn't have to do all this."

Stacy smiled. "I wanted to. Besides, I didn't really have anyone to spend Christmas with, and it's no fun to cook a big meal like this for yourself."

Daria hadn't really thought about what Stacy would be doing if she wasn't coming over to cook dinner for her. It made her feel a bit guilty, but she was glad Stacy didn't have anyone else to spend Christmas with. "Speaking of being by yourself, we should probably bring Marc that plate before we get started. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to move after dinner."

Stacy giggled. "You're right. Let me make up a plate." She quickly piled generous portions of everything, including a slice of cake, onto a plate and covered it in cling wrap.

By the time Stacy was done, Daria was already waiting at the door, keys in hand. A short walk later, they were in the elevator, riding down to the lobby. Looking down at the plate Stacy was carrying, Daria asked, "How'd you learn to cook like that?"

Stacy shrugged. "We always had big family gatherings, so I just learned as I grew up. I enjoyed it, so I kept learning."

"Oh, sorry," Daria said, regretting having asked the question. "I didn't mean to bring up your family."

Stacy shook her head and smiled softly. "It's fine. I can't run away from every part of my past that's connected to something unpleasant. I have lots of happy memories with my family; I try to concentrate on those. It doesn't always work, but it's better than treating my own past like a minefield."

Daria considered that. She hoped she'd be able to think about Jane like that one day, or at least not lose it whenever something brought her to mind.

When the elevator opened, Daria and Stacy made their way toward the door, met halfway by Marc. "You ladies forget something?"

"No," Stacy said cheerily, holding out the plate. "We just had so much that we thought we should share."

The doorman's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he accepted the plate from Stacy. "Thank you. I certainly wasn't expecting to eat this well tonight."

"Neither was I," Daria said with a chuckle.

Marc looked between the two women and smiled. "Well, I don't want to keep you ladies from your dinner. I'll be sure to get the plate back to you, Ms. Morgendorffer. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Daria and Stacy responded in unison, Stacy giggling and Daria feeling a bit embarrassed at how corny they sounded.

With a final wave, the two turned and got back on the elevator. Neither woman spoke as the doors closed and the elevator started to climb. Daria felt a bit uncomfortable; the silence wasn't exactly oppressive, but the fact that she couldn't come up with anything to say was making her uneasy.

Stacy's laughter broke Daria out of her thoughts. "Small talk is kind of hard when you've just shared something so heavy, huh?"

Daria chuckled, relieved Stacy was having the same issue. "It doesn't help that we went to high school together."

The doors opened with a chime and Stacy led the way out. "Really. I feel like all the questions I would normally ask when I'm trying to get to know someone, I either know the answer to or are completely trivial."

Walking alongside Stacy, Daria said, "I don't even  _have_  questions I usually ask. I haven't been on a first date in over a decade." The admission slipped out unintentionally, and Daria had a brief moment of self-conscious panic before Stacy thankfully continued without comment.

"I guess there are some things I'm curious about though," she said, coming to a stop at the apartment and waiting for Daria to unlock the door. "Like, I can make a few guesses, but what are your hobbies? What do you do for fun?"

Daria thought about the question as she turned the key and opened the door. She was tempted to stretch the truth or outright lie to make herself more interesting, but decided that was probably a bad idea. She didn't want to have to actually do whatever she came up with, and lying to Stacy didn't feel right anyway.

"Well, I'm sure you guessed from the home theater and the bookcase full of Blu-rays that I enjoy watching movies. I also read a lot, but I can't imagine that's much of a surprise either," Daria shared, as she dropped the keys next to the door and made a beeline towards the kitchen.

Stacy followed, closing the door behind her and locking it. Even without looking back, Daria could hear Stacy's amused smile when she said, "That does sound like you. What kind of stories do you like? It seemed like you had a variety of movies."

Daria grabbed her plate from the table as she passed and eagerly started to load it up with the fragrant dishes Stacy had prepared. When the follow-up question registered, she expounded, "I guess I've always liked history, especially politics. Science fiction too; whether it's thought provoking or absolute pulp, it's always been a favorite."

Stacy trailed behind Daria, filling up her own plate. "Have you watched or read anything good lately?"

Making her way around the kitchen's island, Daria walked to the head of the table and set her plate down. Picking up the bottle of pinot noir, she said, "I finally got around to watching the latest season of  _Stranger Things_  a few weeks ago. Wine?"

"Please," Stacy answered, bringing her plate to the spot next to Daria at the table and sitting down. "I heard that was good. I've been meaning to watch it, but I'm just so busy."

Daria popped the cork and filled Stacy's glass, then her own. "You really should. I won't spoil anything, but it's well written, makes great use of the time period, and the actors are amazing." She chuckled and added, "Of course, the fact that I've had a crush on Winona Ryder since I first saw  _Heathers_  probably helps." Taking her seat, she took a sip of wine and decided that she'd made a good choice to go with Stacy's dinner.

Stacy smirked. "I certainly wouldn't know anything about being attracted to a smart sarcastic girl." Taking a sip of her own wine, she held up her glass and said, "This is fantastic."

After a quick internal battle with her anxiety, Daria said, "You know, you could come over here and watch it. I mean, I wouldn't mind seeing it again."

A brief look of surprise passed over Stacy's features. Quickly recovering, she said, "I'd like that."

"Good then," Daria said awkwardly, escaping further conversation by busying herself with her meal. Her already high expectations were surpassed as soon as the first bite of moist turkey reached her mouth. It had been a long time since she'd had a home cooked meal, but she was still fairly sure this was one of the better ones she'd ever had. The rest of the meal was just as impressive, and the two women fell into a comfortable silence, disrupted only by the sounds of their silverware as they made quick work of their food.

After clearing a good portion of her plate, Daria took a drink of water and asked, "So, what do you do in your free time?"

Stacy took a moment to finish the last of her stuffing, then said, "Nothing really exciting. During the week, I'm usually so tired after work that I just veg out and watch TV."

Daria let out a mental sigh of relief at the fact that at least one of Stacy's pastimes was as sedate as her own. "What do you watch?" she asked, spearing her final piece of broccoli and bringing it to her mouth as she waited for a response.

Stacy was quiet for a moment, then hesitantly said, "Okay, don't judge me, but I watch a lot of reality TV." Hastily, she added, "Not the trashy stuff, mostly just HGTV, and a maybe a few of the singing shows."

Daria couldn't hold back a small chuckle at Stacy's unwarranted nervousness. Smirking, she asked, "Do you really think your taste in TV is going to scare me away at this point?" She paused to take a sip of wine, then continued, "I wouldn't exactly call myself a fan, but I can see the appeal. Quinn made me watch a some of those fashion reality shows when I lived with her, and I have to admit I enjoyed seeing the horrible decisions people made." The look of shocked disbelief on Stacy's face was priceless.

After having a drink of water, Stacy regained her composure and smiled. "I guess I always imagined you were too intelligent for that kind of thing."

"Sorry to disappoint. I watched _Sick Sad World_  until it went off the air; I don't really have room to judge anyone." Trying to keep the conversation going, Daria asked, "So what do you do on weekends?"

"Huh?"

"You said you watch TV after work," Daria explained. "What do you do on your days off?"

"Oh," Stacy said, taking a moment to savor a sip of wine before answering. "Well, I try to volunteer at least a couple of times a month with LGBT youth. It's kind of cheesy, but I want to be the person who wasn't there for me. You know?"

"The most I do is donate," Daria admitted, dropping her gaze to her plate. She always felt like a bit of a hypocrite when someone talked about volunteering. She wrote about the problems with the world, but the most she did to help was sign a check.

"You should come with me some time," Stacy suggested, before quickly clarifying, "Not that donating isn't important, but there's something about helping on an individual level that's really fulfilling. I think it could be fun to do together."

Daria didn't generally enjoy interacting with strangers, much less teenagers, but the combination of Stacy's enthusiasm and the nagging guilt in the back of her mind convinced her to at least try. Looking back up at Stacy, she smirked and joked, "Well, it would certainly be more interesting than going out for dinner and a movie."

"Great," Stacy said, a bright smile lighting up her face. Looking down at Daria's plate, she asked, "Are you ready for dessert?" When Daria hesitated, looking between what was left on her plate and the tempting yule log cake sitting at the end of the island, Stacy added, "Don't feel like you need to stuff yourself; there are going to be plenty of leftovers."

Daria shifted her gaze from the dessert to the other mostly full dishes still in the kitchen. "There is a lot left," she commented, somewhat puzzled as to why Stacy had made so much.

"Well, you said you didn't cook, so I figured I'd make a little extra so you'd have some home cooking for a few days," Stacy explained.

"Um, thanks," Daria responded somewhat awkwardly, her earlier resolve to repay Stacy strengthened.

"Don't worry about it," Stacy said, waving her hand dismissively as she stood. "It's not really any harder to make a bit more when you're already cooking." Picking up her own plate, she gestured to Daria's and asked, "Do you want me to get that?"

Taking a last quick glance down at her mostly empty plate, Daria decided that, given how amazing dinner had been, she should probably save room for dessert. Standing up and handing her plate to Stacy, she said, "Thanks. I'll put on some coffee to go with dessert."

"Coffee sounds great," Stacy said, as she walked to the sink and busied herself with rinsing the dishes.

Daria made her way across the kitchen to her coffee maker and reached up to the cabinet above it where she kept her coffee. When she saw the vacuum sealed packages, she was struck with an idea. Over her shoulder she asked, "Stacy, you liked the coffee at Kyle's, didn't you?"

"It was amazing!" Stacy replied, raising her voice over the sound of the water pouring over the plates she was cleaning.

"Do you want some?" Daria asked, walking toward where Stacy was working to get some water for the coffee. "I buy it vacuum sealed from Kyle. It's not as good as the fresh stuff at the shop, but it's better than anything you'll find at the grocery store."

Shutting off the water, Stacy turned to Daria and said, "Oh, no. You don't have to give me any—"

Daria didn't let Stacy finish the polite refusal. She tilted her head up and gave the taller woman a halting look. Flatly, she said, "Stacy, you cooked me a kitchen full of food. Let me give you some coffee."

Stacy grinned sheepishly, and replied, "Well, when you put it that way, I  _did_  really like his coffee."

"Good," Daria said, relieved she could at least pay Stacy back a little for everything she'd done. "Can you slice a couple of pieces of that cake while I finish starting the coffee?"

"Sure," Stacy replied cheerfully, walking across the kitchen and getting two small plates out of the cabinet.

As Stacy grabbed a couple of forks and a knife from Daria's utensil drawer, Daria put the coffee on and set a timer. The two rendezvoused at the cake, which was at least as impressive looking as everything else Stacy had prepared. While Stacy cut them each a thick slice, Daria found herself admiring the way the powdered sugar nestled between the grooves in the icing on top of the dessert. "I still can't believe you can make all this."

Stacy looked up from the two neatly set plates, and smiled at Daria's expression. In a slightly teasing tone, she said, "You know, I  _could_  teach you how." When Daria's eyes shifted from the cake and narrowed at Stacy, the teacher, still smiling, held up her hands in defeat. "Alright, alright. I can take a hint. I'll drop it," she acquiesced, before quickly adding, "For now…"

Daria admitted defeat, grumbling, "Lucky you're cute…" under her breath. She found she wasn't actually mad, more just playing along. By now, she knew Stacy wasn't going to force her into anything; the other woman was just teasing, which Daria found she respected.

She grabbed the plates, carrying them to the couch and setting them down on the coffee table before sinking into the couch. Stacy followed, and joined her without comment, though she hadn't stopped grinning. Dropping the surly act, Daria explained, "I figured we could finish the movie while we ate."

"Works for me," Stacy agreed, scooching closer to Daria, so that their arms were touching. "Do you have a blanket? I'm a little chilly."

Glancing out the window, Daria saw that the sun had set and a light dusting of snow had settled along the outside of the glass, with more falling beyond. She was about to offer to turn up the heat, when she realized that warming up under a blanket with Stacy was definitely preferable. Standing, she said, "I have one in my closet. I'll be right back."

"Thanks," Stacy replied, reaching for the remote as Daria turned toward her bedroom.

The room was fairly spartan, with just her desk, chair, bedside table, and bed. She did most of her writing there, having found that having a separate workspace helped her focus. When she reached her closet, Daria looked up at the pile of blankets and quilts on the highest shelf and sighed. She grabbed a small step stool that was leaning against the inside wall of the closet and unfolded it; high ceilings meant more space on her bookshelves, but could definitely be a pain when you were five foot two. Climbing up, she picked out a cozy gray blanket with a small fringe that was large enough to cover both her and Stacy, and carefully pulled it out from the middle of the pile.

By the time Daria had folded up the stool and made it back to the living room, Stacy was waiting with the movie queued up and two steaming mugs of coffee sitting next to the cake on the coffee table. She turned around to face Daria over the back of the couch and said, "Can you get the lights?"

Daria complied, turning off the lights before settling down on the couch and throwing half the blanket over Stacy, keeping the rest for herself. Stacy took this as an invitation, snuggling much closer to Daria than she had when they first sat down.

Daria was glad she had seen the movie before, because she certainly wasn't giving it her full attention. She was decidedly preoccupied with the woman leaning against her. Stacy had pulled her knees up onto the couch and was resting her head on Daria's shoulder, the scent of her shampoo filling the bespectacled woman's nose.

Daria was a bit surprised that she wasn't uncomfortable; the day spent together had apparently worn away her anxieties. She wouldn't say it felt natural, but sitting on her couch, enjoying her favorite coffee and a delicious cake while Stacy leaned against her, lit only by the dim light of the TV, was definitely pleasant.

The remainder of the movie played out quicker than Daria would have preferred. As the credits rolled across the screen, Stacy sat up and stretched, letting out a long yawn. "Excuse me," she said, the last of the yawn working its way into her voice.

The sudden lack of Stacy's presence against her side caught Daria off guard and left her feeling slightly unbalanced. As she straightened up on the couch and tried to compose herself, the display on her cable box caught her eye. She was surprised to find that it was almost nine. Shifting to face Stacy, she reluctantly pointed out, "Well, it is pretty late. I guess you'd better get on the road."

Stacy rotated on the couch so that she was facing Daria as well. Eyes cast down, she unenthusiastically agreed, "Yeah, I guess so…" With the statement left hanging, she looked up at Daria.

Daria met Stacy's gaze, and a charged silence settled between the two women. Even the music playing over the credits seemed to fade away as they sat facing each other in the dim light. Daria was tempted to close the short distance between them, and she could see in Stacy's eyes that the other woman was too. She parted her lips and nearly started to tilt her head and lean in, but managed to stop herself. As much as she wanted to give in and let things happen, she knew it was a bad idea. It would be far too easy for them to go farther than she was ready for, and that could ruin everything.

Marshalling all her willpower, Daria forced herself to break eye contact and stand up. Slowly, she made her way across the room and turned the lights back on. "Um, I'll go get your coffee. Is everything else packed up?" she asked awkwardly, purposefully making her way into the kitchen and opening the cabinet above the coffee maker.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I think so," Stacy responded haltingly, clearly needing a moment to transition from what almost happened to the present. When she recovered, she followed Daria into the kitchen and started checking the canvas bags on the counter.

After grabbing a few of the vacuum sealed packs from the cabinet, Daria hesitantly moved to Stacy's side and waited for the other woman to finish her inspection. When Stacy looked up from the bags, Daria handed her the coffee and said, "Let me know if you like it. I'll buy more next time I go to the shop."

"Thanks, I will," Stacy agreed. Daria was relieved to hear some of the easy cheer she had quickly come to associate with her returning. Stacy placed the coffee into one of the bags and reached down to pick them up, only for Daria to beat her to it. "You really don't have to. I can—"

"You've got to carry your purse, and I'm not walking you down to your car empty-handed while you're loaded down with three bags," Daria stated firmly, looking up at the taller woman standing next to her.

Stacy smiled, almost like she was holding back a laugh, and pulled her hands back from the bags. "You really can't stand things being unequal, can you?"

"If more people repaid what others did for them and took on their share of the work, we'd have a much better society," Daria replied quickly, her tone more bitter and frustrated than she had intended.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," Stacy hurriedly responded, though not with the panic she had displayed earlier in the day. "I think it's really admirable, and kind of cute too."

Daria found herself blushing again, unsure quite how to respond. Instead, she opted to move things forward and walked to the table next to the door. As she was about to move both bags to one hand so she could grab her keys, Stacy startled her by reaching over her shoulder and grabbing the keys herself.

"You're carrying two bags and I just have my purse," Stacy explained, mimicking Daria's firm tone from a few moments earlier, "At least let me get the door."

"Fair enough," Daria said, unable to hold back a chuckle as Stacy opened the door.

Once they were both outside, Stacy locked the door and she and Daria walked side by side down the hall toward the elevator. To Daria's relief, it seemed like any tension from what almost happened on the couch had dissipated. "I had a really nice time," Stacy said, breaking the silence as she pushed the elevator's call button.

"Me too," Daria agreed. "This went a lot better than I thought it would." She almost panicked, realizing what she'd said might sound like, but quickly saw how ridiculous that was and corrected, "Sorry, that didn't come out right. I meant that I thought I would screw it up. I'm not exactly experienced at this kind of thing, and I know I'm not what a lot of people would consider good company."

Stacy smiled. "I was pretty nervous too, you know. You're a brilliant successful author and I'm a kindergarten teacher. I'm a lot more confident than I used to be, but spending the day with a woman I've admired since high school is more than enough to shake me." Walking into the elevator as the door slid open, she added over her shoulder, "And anyone who doesn't consider you good company needs to get their head examined."

Daria followed Stacy into the elevator and set the bags down as the other woman hit the button for the lobby. "I'm really glad you talked me into having you over."

"Me too," Stacy agreed. "It's kind of crazy. I'm not sure what came over me, but whatever it was, I'm glad it did."

"You  _were_  pretty pushy," Daria said, smirking to show she wasn't actually being critical.

Stacy smiled back and said, "I guess I'm not the same person I was back in Lawndale."

Something about what Stacy said seemed off to Daria. After taking a moment to think about what she remembered from those days and what Quinn had told her about the woman standing next to her, she shook her head and said, "No, you are. You're not a pushover anymore, but you're still the same kind person you were back then. You're just confident enough to act on it."

Stacy's face reddened, clearly at a loss for words. When she finally opened her mouth to respond, she was cut off by the chime of the elevator as it reached the lobby and the doors opened. Daria picked up the bags and walked past the other woman with a wry smirk, enjoying keeping her off balance and reeling from the compliment.

"Good evening, Ms. Morgendorffer, Ms. Rowe," Marc called across the lobby, failing to hide an amused smile. "I hope the weather didn't cut your night short."

Daria looked out the glass doors behind Marc and saw that the snowfall from earlier in the evening had intensified. It wasn't to the point that Stacy wouldn't be able to drive home, but it was good that she was getting on the road now. "No, just good timing," Daria said, reaching the door and waiting for Stacy.

"We seem to have a lot of that," Stacy commented as she caught up, smiling warmly at Daria.

"Well, I won't keep you," Marc said, opening the door. "Drive safe."

"I will, thanks," Stacy said as she and Daria walked out of the building and started down the street toward her car.

They walked down the sidewalk in a comfortable, if somewhat tense, silence. Despite carrying two loaded bags through falling snow, Daria felt they arrived at their destination far too quickly.

Stacy walked up to her yellow hatchback and opened the rear door, dodging the snow that fell off the back when she did with practiced ease. Daria hurriedly placed the bags in the back of the car, trying to let as little snow as possible fall inside. Once Stacy closed the door, they both walked back to the sidewalk and stood awkwardly, neither seeming to know how to end things.

"I had a really good time," Stacy offered into the silence.

Daria smirked. "I'm pretty sure you already said that."

"Well, it's true," Stacy replied, more matter-of-factly than defensively. "Oh," she said, reaching in her purse and producing Daria's keys. "Wouldn't want to take these with me."

"Thanks," Daria said, reaching for the keys. When she grabbed them, her hand lingered on Stacy's. Looking the taller woman in the eye, she said, "I really am glad you made me do this."

"I'm pretty sure  _you_  said that," Stacy said with a smile, not moving her hand from Daria's.

Daria couldn't say who started the kiss; it happened so naturally she could barely register the transition from just touching Stacy's hand to embracing her. She definitely stood up on her toes to reach Stacy, but at the same time she was sure Stacy dipped her head down and pulled her close with her free arm. Regardless of how it started, the kiss was amazing. She'd forgotten what that kind of closeness felt like; it had been years since she felt so connected to someone else. Her whole body heated up and she let herself melt into Stacy.

After a length of time she couldn't hope to guess at, Daria stepped back, opening her eyes to gaze into Stacy's. Resisting the urge to bring her fingers to her tingling lips, she said, "Wow."

"Yeah," Stacy agreed, her blush just barely visible in the light from the street lamps.

Daria turned her head up at the falling snow and chuckled. "This has been one heck of a first date. It's going to be hard to live up to."

" _Second_  date," Stacy corrected emphatically, "and I think we'll manage."

"Are you asking me out?" Daria asked slyly, lowering her head to smirk at Stacy.

Stacy smirked back and teased, "I guess I'll  _think_  about it. I'll call you tomorrow and we'll figure something out. Waiting a week or however long never made sense to me."

"Quinn would be scandalized," Daria joked.

" _Quinn_  didn't have a date for Christmas," Stacy countered.

"I hate to say it, but you really should get going," Daria said, looking up at the increasing snowfall again.

"I guess so," Stacy said, leaning forward and giving Daria a quick hug, before walking around her car and

opening the door.

Before Stacy climbed in, Daria called out, "Thanks again. This was definitely a lot better than Chinese food."

Stacy smiled, and warmly said, "Talk to you tomorrow," before climbing in and driving off before the conversation could stretch out any longer.

Daria watched the little yellow hatchback drive away, continuing to stare down the street after it disappeared into the night. If someone had told her she was going to have a date on Christmas, much less with one of her sister's high school friends, she would have recommended they take a vacation to a nice resort with padded walls and custom fitted jackets. Now, she was actually eager for a phone call to schedule the next one.

A cold gust blasting her with snow sent a shiver through Daria and reminded her that she was standing in falling snow at night without a coat. Wiping snow off her glasses with her sleeve, she started back toward her building. Despite the weather, she found herself unable to keep from smiling. Things were looking up for the first time since she'd moved, since before then if she was being honest. Sure, she was scared it might not work out, but it felt right. She had hope, something she hadn't had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations,
> 
> Another merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, and happy Tuesday to those who don't. I hope you all enjoy this one. I'm actually pretty proud of it; I think it's some of my best work, a real culmination of what I've learned about writing so far.
> 
> That said, please feel free to deflate my ego and knock me down a few pegs. I really would appreciate comments and criticism on this. Kudos are great, and I really appreciate them, but they don't let me know what I need to work on.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this (not so) little Christmas present from me.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays,  
> I actually wrote this first part a year ago, but I decided to continue it and then... life happened. Long story short, I finished the whole story last summer. I really like this one, and I hope you do too. The rest is coming when it's set, Christmas day. Consider it a Christmas present I guess.


End file.
